Here we are, having been locked inside the house for two days—not getting to Christmas shop, replenish grocery supplies, but enjoying the time to read, complete decorations inside the house for Christmas, and finish projects on the computer. The five-foot snowdrifts outside today twinkle in the bright sunshine, and are beautiful. A Colorado blizzard is not always a bad thing.
My book fair season ended the day before the snowstorm hit—what a blessing that was. No need to cancel events, nor attempt to drive in the mess, only to perhaps get stuck in snowdrifts and the snarled traffic that resulted. I was warm at home—even made time for a nap, midday. A Colorado blizzard is not always a bad thing!
My husband and stepson were due to fly this morning to Los Angeles overnight for a family bar mitzvah (unfortunately scheduled at Christmastime), but the snowstorm closed the Denver airport. We’ve fretted over this conflict in scheduling for a year and a half, only to have the weather take control and now allow us to enjoy time as a family to complete preparations for Christmas. While some may say that Christmas is just one day, it is more than that. It is a month of preparation, spiritually via our faith beliefs, and practically with all that must be done: shopping, baking, decorating, time with extended family, and time with friends. We feel badly for the family who will miss the presence of the uncle and cousin, but in the end, to not travel after the chaos of an airport closed for two days…well, it’s a relief.
Had the snowstorm hit a week earlier, it would have forced New Life Church to cancel its second weekend of the “Wonderland” performances. Again, all went as planned, and cast, crew, singers and orchestra members were safe at home the past few days. As a member of the worship choir, I was among the cast who participated in most of the eight performances over two weekends. Wonderland is a Hollywood-style, huge Christmas show that features a cast of hundreds singing and dancing not only Christmas carols, but much more. It featured a country western, line dancing version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” a show-stopping performance of “Be Our Guest” complete with bigger-than-life costumed “Luminaire” (the candle from “Beauty and the Beast”), hosts “Jack” and “Colby” who are supposed to be babysitting four children who together wreak havoc on the sitters throughout the show. If you’re in the Colorado Springs area next year, I suggest you buy tickets to Wonderland and come! It’s a fantastic show.
Merry Christmas to all! Blessings on your New Year. Keep the faith. The Lord has come.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
War, Veterans and Pastor Ted Haggard
What do they have to do with each other? Simply viewed, it gets down to the struggle between good and evil, and newsworthy issues of the past two weeks.
I am a member of New Life Church, and Ted Haggard has been my pastor up until his dismissal last week for what has been termed “sexually immoral conduct.” Today is also Veterans Day, and I am running a book fair at Fort Carson Army Base, south of Colorado Springs.
I have spent three days talking with family members and some of the soldiers who have returned from 12 to 15 months in Iraq. I am honored to be in the presence of those who have unselfishly served our country overseas and returned home safely, harbored by their families. The children are happy to have their daddies (and sometimes, mommies) home. Wives look relieved, anxious, happy, concerned all-at-once in their husbands’ presence. The “Mr. Mom” dads are ready to give back, if temporarily, duties of child care to the mothers whose recent concerns were of terrorist enemies and not “is it time to change the baby’s diaper?”
Each time a squadron of troops returns to Fort Carson, the front page of The Gazette is awash with colorful photos of heart-warming reunions—kisses to new babies, hugs to long-missed wives—tears abundant, wetting smiles.
Not so happy-looking was the widely published front-page photo last week of Pastor Haggard and his beautiful wife, Gayle, cornered by news reporters as the Haggard family left home one morning. Writers drooled over the sensational alleged transgressions made public by self-professed gay prostitute, Mike Jones, against the now former president of the National Association of Evangelicals. It rocked the Christian world and our congregation the week before the election, the intent of Jones who stated plainly he could not remain silent about his involvement with Pastor Haggard, a man who strongly favored the passing of Colorado’s Amendment 43 that would define in Colorado legal marriage as only between a man and a woman. Voters felt the same way, as #43 easily passed on November 7. I voted in favor of it.
I have heard some returning soldiers express strong opinions about US politics. They are proud to be in the military and know the media does not tell the entire story of the good they are doing in Iraq. On the home front, some are also concerned about the issue of immigration from Mexico. As I wrapped up yesterday’s book fair, a married couple who both returned this week from the war front explained their solution to building a fence at the US/Mexico border: “We need to do it. The entire border. And for those people we let in, there should be a requirement that they must speak English. And they each need to serve one year in the military, defending the country they want to live in. Then they can stay here.” I’ll admit, it sounds like a good idea to me.
President Bush has said the Iraq war is about good versus evil. I too believe it is. As a mother of two sons in the military (USAF and USN), I support wholeheartedly the US efforts to conquer the enemy who wants to prevent its own people from being free.
Pastor Ted admitted publicly he struggled in his soul with darkness that he eventually succumbed to. He is not an evil man. I know him to be a faith-filled, excellent Bible teacher, now known to have human failings. Yet this past week, we have learned of a new side of him, one that is hard to face: the hypocrisy, the deceit. Aside from the immoral sexual behavior and admitted purchase of drugs, the saying-one-thing, doing-another truth of his behavior has come out, and a world full of people (let alone, our congregation) now should be led to examine their own souls and attitudes before they point a finger at another and cry, "Liar." That doesn't mean we brush under the rug what this revelation tells everyone about Ted Haggard. Let's instead do a personal assessment of our own integrity and honesty and go on to become better people. Because being a hypocrit and deceiver is just as much a sin as any other. Choose good and "right" instead of evil and "wrong." How does one know the difference? I'd suggest start by reading the Bible as an instruction guide for how to do it right. That's my reference guide for life, and still, I too know I fall short. It's in the trying where there are blessings.
Our church will survive. As Interim Pastor Ross Parsley stated in last Sunday’s sermon, Pastor Haggard is “public proof that every person is indeed in need of a Savior.”
As we come into this Christmas season, let the world news shout of the one who came to conquer evil—Jesus Christ, the son of God. In only Him can eternal salvation be found. Through only Him, when this world as we know it passes away, will evil be banished.
In the meantime, we will yet struggle with wars, earthly temptations and human weaknesses. New Life Church has been open about what is going on internally. For that, I am grateful because it's the way a healthy family works.
I also thank God for the soldiers of our country and the soldiers of Jesus Christ who stand tall to do battle for others’ sakes in this world darkened by the evil that is sometimes unconquerable. It’s only for a while.
I am a member of New Life Church, and Ted Haggard has been my pastor up until his dismissal last week for what has been termed “sexually immoral conduct.” Today is also Veterans Day, and I am running a book fair at Fort Carson Army Base, south of Colorado Springs.
I have spent three days talking with family members and some of the soldiers who have returned from 12 to 15 months in Iraq. I am honored to be in the presence of those who have unselfishly served our country overseas and returned home safely, harbored by their families. The children are happy to have their daddies (and sometimes, mommies) home. Wives look relieved, anxious, happy, concerned all-at-once in their husbands’ presence. The “Mr. Mom” dads are ready to give back, if temporarily, duties of child care to the mothers whose recent concerns were of terrorist enemies and not “is it time to change the baby’s diaper?”
Each time a squadron of troops returns to Fort Carson, the front page of The Gazette is awash with colorful photos of heart-warming reunions—kisses to new babies, hugs to long-missed wives—tears abundant, wetting smiles.
Not so happy-looking was the widely published front-page photo last week of Pastor Haggard and his beautiful wife, Gayle, cornered by news reporters as the Haggard family left home one morning. Writers drooled over the sensational alleged transgressions made public by self-professed gay prostitute, Mike Jones, against the now former president of the National Association of Evangelicals. It rocked the Christian world and our congregation the week before the election, the intent of Jones who stated plainly he could not remain silent about his involvement with Pastor Haggard, a man who strongly favored the passing of Colorado’s Amendment 43 that would define in Colorado legal marriage as only between a man and a woman. Voters felt the same way, as #43 easily passed on November 7. I voted in favor of it.
I have heard some returning soldiers express strong opinions about US politics. They are proud to be in the military and know the media does not tell the entire story of the good they are doing in Iraq. On the home front, some are also concerned about the issue of immigration from Mexico. As I wrapped up yesterday’s book fair, a married couple who both returned this week from the war front explained their solution to building a fence at the US/Mexico border: “We need to do it. The entire border. And for those people we let in, there should be a requirement that they must speak English. And they each need to serve one year in the military, defending the country they want to live in. Then they can stay here.” I’ll admit, it sounds like a good idea to me.
President Bush has said the Iraq war is about good versus evil. I too believe it is. As a mother of two sons in the military (USAF and USN), I support wholeheartedly the US efforts to conquer the enemy who wants to prevent its own people from being free.
Pastor Ted admitted publicly he struggled in his soul with darkness that he eventually succumbed to. He is not an evil man. I know him to be a faith-filled, excellent Bible teacher, now known to have human failings. Yet this past week, we have learned of a new side of him, one that is hard to face: the hypocrisy, the deceit. Aside from the immoral sexual behavior and admitted purchase of drugs, the saying-one-thing, doing-another truth of his behavior has come out, and a world full of people (let alone, our congregation) now should be led to examine their own souls and attitudes before they point a finger at another and cry, "Liar." That doesn't mean we brush under the rug what this revelation tells everyone about Ted Haggard. Let's instead do a personal assessment of our own integrity and honesty and go on to become better people. Because being a hypocrit and deceiver is just as much a sin as any other. Choose good and "right" instead of evil and "wrong." How does one know the difference? I'd suggest start by reading the Bible as an instruction guide for how to do it right. That's my reference guide for life, and still, I too know I fall short. It's in the trying where there are blessings.
Our church will survive. As Interim Pastor Ross Parsley stated in last Sunday’s sermon, Pastor Haggard is “public proof that every person is indeed in need of a Savior.”
As we come into this Christmas season, let the world news shout of the one who came to conquer evil—Jesus Christ, the son of God. In only Him can eternal salvation be found. Through only Him, when this world as we know it passes away, will evil be banished.
In the meantime, we will yet struggle with wars, earthly temptations and human weaknesses. New Life Church has been open about what is going on internally. For that, I am grateful because it's the way a healthy family works.
I also thank God for the soldiers of our country and the soldiers of Jesus Christ who stand tall to do battle for others’ sakes in this world darkened by the evil that is sometimes unconquerable. It’s only for a while.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
A Blizzard of Memories
Like to ski? Come to Colorado. We’ve got lots of the white stuff swirling around now.
Overnight, a major blizzard hit our area, and while it is beautiful, and it’s given many people here in Colorado Springs the day off (most businesses are closed, as is Interstate 25 in many parts), the only thing it’s good for is skiing. OK, so maybe also for taking a few nice photos for use on a Christmas card. Me, I’m a warm weather person and don’t care much for bundling up in bulky coats and boots.
A day off is a luxury. We pampered ourselves and sat outdoors in the hot tub with the snow blowing around us—great fun. At the same time, I am responsible for a 2-day book fair at a nursing home that started yesterday. Which means, today my books and display carts are stranded there, while I’m stranded here, soaking away my guilt over not being able to work. Not making sales. Not serving the residents of the nursing home. But I can’t change it, so I’ll just wait until the roads are open again tomorrow!
Nursing homes are a world unto themselves. I am always amazed and filled with admiration for the staff people who daily care for the elderly and disabled populations who reside there. They are indeed angels of mercy.
I slow down when I’m working in that environment. I tend to be a high-energy person who is always moving or keeping busy with things to do. I talk fast. I move fast. Not in a nursing home. How can I be speedy when those whom I’m serving do nothing of the sort? They’ve earned this time in their lives to take a day slowly. They deserve to be cared for: helped on with a jacket, served food, have their hair combed or blanket tucked in around their feet. I imagine each of them has cared for others at one time in their lives, and now it’s their turn to be the recipient of grace.
I find myself staring intently into the faces of the residents when I’m conducting a fair in a nursing home. I can’t help but try to see each person as a child, a teen, or someone who jetted off to a honeymoon, lived as a young mother or father, as an active adult who held down a job, played on a softball team, or danced the night away with a loved one. I can’t help but wonder what my fate will be when I’m in my 80s, if the good Lord allows me time on earth that long. Will I be in a wheelchair? Will I need to be fed my dinner? Will I need others to help me with basic issues of cleanliness?
I believe each and every person under the age of 60 should at one time in his or her life spend time in a nursing home. I know it causes me to think about what is truly important in life. When all is said and done, and one sees the end of life just beyond the daylight, I think what matters is the dignity people deserve as human beings and children of God. It’s about the respect and human compassion each of us should be given after living a long life. Our society tends to look at youth as the all-deserving, the “stars”—the Hollywood mentality of our culture—but it’s the elderly, fragile people who help me to focus on what it means to care for another human being.
If I’m lucky, I’ll live to be 80 or longer, and I hope someone will care enough to remember that I too was once young and vibrant. And when I nod to sleep in my wheelchair because I’m tired with age, and you think I can’t hear you talking, youthful memories will still swirl like a Colorado blizzard around in my head, and I'll remember the kind of person I was. It will just be my body that’s aged and weak, not my spirit.
Overnight, a major blizzard hit our area, and while it is beautiful, and it’s given many people here in Colorado Springs the day off (most businesses are closed, as is Interstate 25 in many parts), the only thing it’s good for is skiing. OK, so maybe also for taking a few nice photos for use on a Christmas card. Me, I’m a warm weather person and don’t care much for bundling up in bulky coats and boots.
A day off is a luxury. We pampered ourselves and sat outdoors in the hot tub with the snow blowing around us—great fun. At the same time, I am responsible for a 2-day book fair at a nursing home that started yesterday. Which means, today my books and display carts are stranded there, while I’m stranded here, soaking away my guilt over not being able to work. Not making sales. Not serving the residents of the nursing home. But I can’t change it, so I’ll just wait until the roads are open again tomorrow!
Nursing homes are a world unto themselves. I am always amazed and filled with admiration for the staff people who daily care for the elderly and disabled populations who reside there. They are indeed angels of mercy.
I slow down when I’m working in that environment. I tend to be a high-energy person who is always moving or keeping busy with things to do. I talk fast. I move fast. Not in a nursing home. How can I be speedy when those whom I’m serving do nothing of the sort? They’ve earned this time in their lives to take a day slowly. They deserve to be cared for: helped on with a jacket, served food, have their hair combed or blanket tucked in around their feet. I imagine each of them has cared for others at one time in their lives, and now it’s their turn to be the recipient of grace.
I find myself staring intently into the faces of the residents when I’m conducting a fair in a nursing home. I can’t help but try to see each person as a child, a teen, or someone who jetted off to a honeymoon, lived as a young mother or father, as an active adult who held down a job, played on a softball team, or danced the night away with a loved one. I can’t help but wonder what my fate will be when I’m in my 80s, if the good Lord allows me time on earth that long. Will I be in a wheelchair? Will I need to be fed my dinner? Will I need others to help me with basic issues of cleanliness?
I believe each and every person under the age of 60 should at one time in his or her life spend time in a nursing home. I know it causes me to think about what is truly important in life. When all is said and done, and one sees the end of life just beyond the daylight, I think what matters is the dignity people deserve as human beings and children of God. It’s about the respect and human compassion each of us should be given after living a long life. Our society tends to look at youth as the all-deserving, the “stars”—the Hollywood mentality of our culture—but it’s the elderly, fragile people who help me to focus on what it means to care for another human being.
If I’m lucky, I’ll live to be 80 or longer, and I hope someone will care enough to remember that I too was once young and vibrant. And when I nod to sleep in my wheelchair because I’m tired with age, and you think I can’t hear you talking, youthful memories will still swirl like a Colorado blizzard around in my head, and I'll remember the kind of person I was. It will just be my body that’s aged and weak, not my spirit.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Guinness Book 2007--New and Improved
”Good Morning America” has a new weekend show. I saw it for the first time this past Saturday. The hosts did a segment on the new “Guinness Book of World Records 2007.”
It just so happens that I have carried this item at my book fairs for the past three weeks. It was a pleasant surprise to learn I had a jump on the GMA-Weekend crew. Since many customers have been buying and reading this book of late, and GMA thought it important enough to devote air time to it, I want to share here a few of the unusual and bizarre entries listed as current records. The book is 288 pages long and comes with a set of free Guinness Record trading cards. My price at the book fairs is $16.49 (which beats Amazon.com by $2.62), while the publisher’s price is $28.95. Learn more about the book at www.guinnessworldrecords.com
The book claims to be the “World’s Biggest-Selling Book.” It is published in more than 100 countries in 26 different languages.
Most Pubs Visited in 24 Hours
A group of 19 students belonging to St. Andrew’s College, University of Sydney, Australia, set a new team record by visiting and drinking at 82 drinking establishments throughout Sydney on June 9-10, 2005. The individual record for the most pubs visited is held by Bruce Master (UK), who had visited 38,000 pubs and bars since 1960 as of February 27, 2005.
I say the guy needs to get a life.
Oldest Love Poem
Archaeologists have dated a love poem written on a clay tablet to the time of the Sumerians, who invented writing ca. 3500 BC. It was given the rather unromantic name of “Istanbul #2461” and is thought to have been recited by a bride of the Sumerian king Shu-Sin, who ruled between 2037 and 2029 BC. It begins, “Bridegroom, dear to my heart, Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet, Lion, dear to my heart, Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet.”
I say this isn't too bad for a gal who lived 5500 years ago.
Oldest Piece of Cake
The Alimentarium Food Museum in Vevey, Switzerland, has as one of its exhibits the world’s oldest cake. The 4,200-year-old confectionery was sealed and vacuum-packed in the grave of Pepionkh, who lived in ancient Egypt ca. 2200 BC. The cake, which measures 4.25 inches (11 cm) in diameter, has sesame on the outside and honey inside, and was possibly made with milk.
Apparently even the ants didn't want it.
Highest-Resolution Satellite Images
The best commercially available satellite images are those taken by Digitalglobe’s QuickBird Satellite. Launched on October 18, 2001, QuickBird can take black-and-white images of the Earth at a resolution of 24 inches (61 cm) per pixel, and multispectral images at 8 feet (2.44 m) per pixel.
Beware, all you nude sunbathers!
Highest Percentage of Body Burns Survived
David Chapman (UK) survived burns of 90% to his body after a canister exploded and drenched him with gasoline while he was filling his moped on July 2, 1996. During a subsequent operation, surgeons spent 36 hours removing dead tissue from David’s body.
Nothing funny to be said about this.
Survival Without A Pulse
Julie Mills (UK) survived three days without a pulse in her vascular system after suffering severe heart failure and vital myocarditis on August 14, 1998. Cardiac surgeons at the John Radcliffe Hospital, Oxford, UK, used a non-pulsatile blood pump (AB180) to support her for a week, during which time her heart recovered and the pump was removed.
I'd say she is one lucky woman.
Longest Fingernails
Lee Redmond (USA) has grown the fingernails of both her hands to reach a total length of 24 feet, 7 inches (7.51 m). She has been growing her nails for 24 years and treats them daily with warm olive oil and nail hardener. Lee lives a very active life, despite her fingernails, although she does attract a few “unusual” admirer: she was once offered money to have her nails nibbled, the prospective buyer suggesting that he buy by the inch! Even the prospect of the bathroom is undaunting to Lee. When asked how she “goes,” she replies: ‘Carefully!
I'd say this is one crazy woman.
And finally,
Largest Bubblegum Bubble Blown (Unassisted)
Chad Fell (USA) blew a bubblegum bubble with a diameter of 20 inches (50.8 cm) – without using his hands to steady or stretch the bubble – at the Double Springs High School, Winston County, Alabama, USA, on April 24, 20004. The secret of his success, says Chad, is blowing with three pieces of Dubble Bubble gum.
Hmm…I was a Dubble Bubble fan as a child. My dad used to call me “Gum Face” due to the fact that my bubbles were always popping and sticking to my face, and he had to clean the gooey mess off. So I don’t think I’ll be trying to set any world records for bubble blowing.
Then again, I wonder if I could fit four pieces into my mouth…
It just so happens that I have carried this item at my book fairs for the past three weeks. It was a pleasant surprise to learn I had a jump on the GMA-Weekend crew. Since many customers have been buying and reading this book of late, and GMA thought it important enough to devote air time to it, I want to share here a few of the unusual and bizarre entries listed as current records. The book is 288 pages long and comes with a set of free Guinness Record trading cards. My price at the book fairs is $16.49 (which beats Amazon.com by $2.62), while the publisher’s price is $28.95. Learn more about the book at www.guinnessworldrecords.com
The book claims to be the “World’s Biggest-Selling Book.” It is published in more than 100 countries in 26 different languages.
Most Pubs Visited in 24 Hours
A group of 19 students belonging to St. Andrew’s College, University of Sydney, Australia, set a new team record by visiting and drinking at 82 drinking establishments throughout Sydney on June 9-10, 2005. The individual record for the most pubs visited is held by Bruce Master (UK), who had visited 38,000 pubs and bars since 1960 as of February 27, 2005.
I say the guy needs to get a life.
Oldest Love Poem
Archaeologists have dated a love poem written on a clay tablet to the time of the Sumerians, who invented writing ca. 3500 BC. It was given the rather unromantic name of “Istanbul #2461” and is thought to have been recited by a bride of the Sumerian king Shu-Sin, who ruled between 2037 and 2029 BC. It begins, “Bridegroom, dear to my heart, Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet, Lion, dear to my heart, Goodly is your beauty, honeysweet.”
I say this isn't too bad for a gal who lived 5500 years ago.
Oldest Piece of Cake
The Alimentarium Food Museum in Vevey, Switzerland, has as one of its exhibits the world’s oldest cake. The 4,200-year-old confectionery was sealed and vacuum-packed in the grave of Pepionkh, who lived in ancient Egypt ca. 2200 BC. The cake, which measures 4.25 inches (11 cm) in diameter, has sesame on the outside and honey inside, and was possibly made with milk.
Apparently even the ants didn't want it.
Highest-Resolution Satellite Images
The best commercially available satellite images are those taken by Digitalglobe’s QuickBird Satellite. Launched on October 18, 2001, QuickBird can take black-and-white images of the Earth at a resolution of 24 inches (61 cm) per pixel, and multispectral images at 8 feet (2.44 m) per pixel.
Beware, all you nude sunbathers!
Highest Percentage of Body Burns Survived
David Chapman (UK) survived burns of 90% to his body after a canister exploded and drenched him with gasoline while he was filling his moped on July 2, 1996. During a subsequent operation, surgeons spent 36 hours removing dead tissue from David’s body.
Nothing funny to be said about this.
Survival Without A Pulse
Julie Mills (UK) survived three days without a pulse in her vascular system after suffering severe heart failure and vital myocarditis on August 14, 1998. Cardiac surgeons at the John Radcliffe Hospital, Oxford, UK, used a non-pulsatile blood pump (AB180) to support her for a week, during which time her heart recovered and the pump was removed.
I'd say she is one lucky woman.
Longest Fingernails
Lee Redmond (USA) has grown the fingernails of both her hands to reach a total length of 24 feet, 7 inches (7.51 m). She has been growing her nails for 24 years and treats them daily with warm olive oil and nail hardener. Lee lives a very active life, despite her fingernails, although she does attract a few “unusual” admirer: she was once offered money to have her nails nibbled, the prospective buyer suggesting that he buy by the inch! Even the prospect of the bathroom is undaunting to Lee. When asked how she “goes,” she replies: ‘Carefully!
I'd say this is one crazy woman.
And finally,
Largest Bubblegum Bubble Blown (Unassisted)
Chad Fell (USA) blew a bubblegum bubble with a diameter of 20 inches (50.8 cm) – without using his hands to steady or stretch the bubble – at the Double Springs High School, Winston County, Alabama, USA, on April 24, 20004. The secret of his success, says Chad, is blowing with three pieces of Dubble Bubble gum.
Hmm…I was a Dubble Bubble fan as a child. My dad used to call me “Gum Face” due to the fact that my bubbles were always popping and sticking to my face, and he had to clean the gooey mess off. So I don’t think I’ll be trying to set any world records for bubble blowing.
Then again, I wonder if I could fit four pieces into my mouth…
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
A Miracle Made My Day
Last Friday, a Miracle touched my book fair. It came in the form of a 6-year-old girl who had just had surgery. Miracle is her name.
I had just completed a 3-day event at the local hospital. The day was slowing down, the hussle and bussle of daytime appointments, daily visitors, and a long work week settled peacefully alongside the setting sun. It had been a good three days of sales. Customers liked the variety and low prices. They bought many gifts for special people…for anniversaries, birthdays, or just to say “I love you.”
As I packed up the unsold merchandise, I noticed a black woman standing nearby at one of the display tables, about three feet away. Her back was turned to me so that all I saw was a head full of long, thin braids trailing down past her shoulders. She was quite short – less than five feet tall, from what I could see. She was the only customer in my vicinity, and I couldn’t tell if she was just passing time or intended to shop.
“The cash register is still on, if you’d like to buy something,” I told her, continuing to clear the table. I wasn’t trying to intrude on her solitude, just convey that I was nearby to help if she needed me. I soon learned that her need was not for salesmanship, but comfort.
“Oh, I’d like to buy something, but I don’t have any money,” she said, adding as she burst into tears, “I’d like to buy something for my niece – she just had surgery.”
I was caught off guard by her crying, yet my spirit leapt to attention. I went to the woman, touched her carefully on the arm, and said, “I’m sorry. Tell me what happened.” It was all she needed to hear, and she shared the details of her anguish.
Her niece was upstairs, just taken back into surgery after an operation earlier in the day. The woman explained that “just yesterday, she had been a flower girl in her uncle’s wedding.” The little girl had sickle cell anemia, and there was a complication from the earlier procedure that had the family worried and upset. They didn’t know what the second surgery meant, and were waiting to hear from the doctor. “I had to come downstairs to get away for a few minutes while we’re waiting,” she explained.
Miracle was the little girl’s name, and her aunt loved her dearly. I asked questions about the family—were there siblings, or was she an only child?
“She has a little sister—Savannah is one year old, and they’re very close,” she said as the tears streamed down her face. “Savannah is a miracle too. Her mother wasn’t supposed to have another baby, and she is perfect, healthy in every way.”
I was moved. And I moved—to the table across the way, where I had a display of white stuffed cats for sale. Cute things. Little girl things that might cheer up a hurting aunt and a sick little girl. I motioned for the woman to come look with me, and I said, “Do you think Miracle would like one of these?” I’d chosen a set of two kittens – one large, one small – thinking one perhaps symbolized the aunt, and the other, the niece.
“Here, this is for Miracle.” I handed the pair to her, said it was hers, no charge, from me.
She smiled a wet smile, exposing broken and cigarette-stained teeth. Gratitude filled her teary eyes, and she thanked me. “This is Miracle and Savannah…two kittens, one big, one small!” And it warmed my heart, no matter her lack of money. I was grateful that I was in a position to do what seemed right.
Yet the woman continued to cry. She seemed inconsolable. What more could I give to her, I thought.
And again my spirit moved. I could pray. No matter that she was a stranger. I should pray. I put my arms around her, rested my chin on the top of her head, and called aloud on Jesus Christ. I asked the Lord to watch over Miracle, to heal her, and prayed that this second surgery would be successful – that it would fix whatever was wrong. I asked for peace for the family. I asked him to protect the little girl. With a perfect stranger, for a first time ever, I was compelled to give of myself in a new way—to pray because it was the only thing I could do—and the only thing that mattered.
Aunt Penny was again grateful. Perhaps she thought of me as a passing angel, but I was the one who’d been blessed. I was the one who was able to turn to someone in need and give something that heretofore I only gave to my family or friends, or at my church. It was the end of my work week, and I was tired. But after hearing of Miracle and her family’s pain, I was energized by being able to reach out to a stranger, listen, and care. I knew it was the Holy Spirit, and it felt good to obey His leading.
After three days of sales, I didn’t care what the dollar figure was. I walked out of the hospital with a glow in my heart—and that was all the pay I needed.
A Miracle had made my day.
I had just completed a 3-day event at the local hospital. The day was slowing down, the hussle and bussle of daytime appointments, daily visitors, and a long work week settled peacefully alongside the setting sun. It had been a good three days of sales. Customers liked the variety and low prices. They bought many gifts for special people…for anniversaries, birthdays, or just to say “I love you.”
As I packed up the unsold merchandise, I noticed a black woman standing nearby at one of the display tables, about three feet away. Her back was turned to me so that all I saw was a head full of long, thin braids trailing down past her shoulders. She was quite short – less than five feet tall, from what I could see. She was the only customer in my vicinity, and I couldn’t tell if she was just passing time or intended to shop.
“The cash register is still on, if you’d like to buy something,” I told her, continuing to clear the table. I wasn’t trying to intrude on her solitude, just convey that I was nearby to help if she needed me. I soon learned that her need was not for salesmanship, but comfort.
“Oh, I’d like to buy something, but I don’t have any money,” she said, adding as she burst into tears, “I’d like to buy something for my niece – she just had surgery.”
I was caught off guard by her crying, yet my spirit leapt to attention. I went to the woman, touched her carefully on the arm, and said, “I’m sorry. Tell me what happened.” It was all she needed to hear, and she shared the details of her anguish.
Her niece was upstairs, just taken back into surgery after an operation earlier in the day. The woman explained that “just yesterday, she had been a flower girl in her uncle’s wedding.” The little girl had sickle cell anemia, and there was a complication from the earlier procedure that had the family worried and upset. They didn’t know what the second surgery meant, and were waiting to hear from the doctor. “I had to come downstairs to get away for a few minutes while we’re waiting,” she explained.
Miracle was the little girl’s name, and her aunt loved her dearly. I asked questions about the family—were there siblings, or was she an only child?
“She has a little sister—Savannah is one year old, and they’re very close,” she said as the tears streamed down her face. “Savannah is a miracle too. Her mother wasn’t supposed to have another baby, and she is perfect, healthy in every way.”
I was moved. And I moved—to the table across the way, where I had a display of white stuffed cats for sale. Cute things. Little girl things that might cheer up a hurting aunt and a sick little girl. I motioned for the woman to come look with me, and I said, “Do you think Miracle would like one of these?” I’d chosen a set of two kittens – one large, one small – thinking one perhaps symbolized the aunt, and the other, the niece.
“Here, this is for Miracle.” I handed the pair to her, said it was hers, no charge, from me.
She smiled a wet smile, exposing broken and cigarette-stained teeth. Gratitude filled her teary eyes, and she thanked me. “This is Miracle and Savannah…two kittens, one big, one small!” And it warmed my heart, no matter her lack of money. I was grateful that I was in a position to do what seemed right.
Yet the woman continued to cry. She seemed inconsolable. What more could I give to her, I thought.
And again my spirit moved. I could pray. No matter that she was a stranger. I should pray. I put my arms around her, rested my chin on the top of her head, and called aloud on Jesus Christ. I asked the Lord to watch over Miracle, to heal her, and prayed that this second surgery would be successful – that it would fix whatever was wrong. I asked for peace for the family. I asked him to protect the little girl. With a perfect stranger, for a first time ever, I was compelled to give of myself in a new way—to pray because it was the only thing I could do—and the only thing that mattered.
Aunt Penny was again grateful. Perhaps she thought of me as a passing angel, but I was the one who’d been blessed. I was the one who was able to turn to someone in need and give something that heretofore I only gave to my family or friends, or at my church. It was the end of my work week, and I was tired. But after hearing of Miracle and her family’s pain, I was energized by being able to reach out to a stranger, listen, and care. I knew it was the Holy Spirit, and it felt good to obey His leading.
After three days of sales, I didn’t care what the dollar figure was. I walked out of the hospital with a glow in my heart—and that was all the pay I needed.
A Miracle had made my day.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Horsing Around in the Animal World
I was on horseback yesterday for a couple of hours, taking my fifth riding lesson. Here I am a grandmother (I do try to stay in shape), learning how to officially ride a horse. It's been a lifelong dream, fostered before I ever started school back in the 1950s. I saw each summer a herd of about 20 horses that grazed and nuzzled each other on open land, surrounded by billowing trees across from my uncle's cottage, located on the Fox River in Illinois. I'd stare at them for hours. To me, they were such majestic, magnificent-looking creatures. If I'd had my way, I'd have grown up on a horse ranch in Arizona instead of on the concrete sidewalks of Chicago. The site of those steeds got into my blood, and finally, I have a chance to get to know the animal and feel what it's like to groom one, saddle it up, and ride. I don't even mind picking the crud out of their hooves with the grooming tools.
Which brings me to one of the books I carry in the fall line-up at my books fairs, "Spirit of the Horse," by Bob Langrish and Nicola Jane Swinney, published by Paragon Publishing. The photography is artistic and portrays the animals in the wild and from around the world. Chapters cover horses on film, Arabian horses, Iberian horses, those from Europe, of the Americas, ponies of the world, foals and heavy horses. Two-page spreads in the 10" x 12-1/2" book size are beautiful, while Swinney's prose is informative and thorough. Given that our prices are 30% to 70% below publisher's prices, this 257-page book is a bargain at $14.99.
It's an interesting fact that many children's books are written about animals. There are books about rabbits and lightning bugs, kittens and puppies. And bears -- bears are big (no pun intended). New books released for Christmas are bear stories that hope to appeal to parents as gifts for children. A new title published by Margaret K. McElderry Books/Simon and Schuster is "Bear Stays Up for Christmas." It is written by Karma Wilson and illustrated by Jane Chapman. It's a cute story about a bear's friends who are determined to keep him awake for Christmas, helping him to fight his natural desire to hibernate by stringing popcorn on the Christmas tree, baking cookies, wrapping presents, and more.
"I've Seen Santa" is also about bears. Little Bear doesn't want to go to sleep, but tries to stay up to see Santa arrive on Christmas Eve. He discovers Big Bear, his father, eating Santa's blueberry pie. Little Bear is tucked back into bed, snuggling up to Big Bear, only to hear noises downstairs. The pair find Mommy Bear messing with the stockings hung from the mantle, and they all decide to sleep downstairs to see Santa. The book is written by David Bedrod, illustrated by Tim Warnes, and published by Little Tiger Press...and there's another animal for you!
"Snuggle Up, Little One--A Treasury of Bedtime Stories," features mice, lions, tigers, chickens, cows, rabbits, a bush baby--and of course--bears. This version is a padded hardcover, 171 pages, with 6 different bedtime stories. Its navy blue cover is softened by a beautiful illustration of a tan mother bear carrying her baby bear-child, snuggled in a red blanket. They walk in a darkened forest in the background, and human-like expressions of love between parent and child indicate the tenderness that the stories inside are sure to portray. The book retails for $29.99, but the book fair price is $12.99.
If these titles intrigue you, click on the link to Books Are Fun on the right-hand side of this page and shop online. You too may find an animal book that is just your style!
Which brings me to one of the books I carry in the fall line-up at my books fairs, "Spirit of the Horse," by Bob Langrish and Nicola Jane Swinney, published by Paragon Publishing. The photography is artistic and portrays the animals in the wild and from around the world. Chapters cover horses on film, Arabian horses, Iberian horses, those from Europe, of the Americas, ponies of the world, foals and heavy horses. Two-page spreads in the 10" x 12-1/2" book size are beautiful, while Swinney's prose is informative and thorough. Given that our prices are 30% to 70% below publisher's prices, this 257-page book is a bargain at $14.99.
It's an interesting fact that many children's books are written about animals. There are books about rabbits and lightning bugs, kittens and puppies. And bears -- bears are big (no pun intended). New books released for Christmas are bear stories that hope to appeal to parents as gifts for children. A new title published by Margaret K. McElderry Books/Simon and Schuster is "Bear Stays Up for Christmas." It is written by Karma Wilson and illustrated by Jane Chapman. It's a cute story about a bear's friends who are determined to keep him awake for Christmas, helping him to fight his natural desire to hibernate by stringing popcorn on the Christmas tree, baking cookies, wrapping presents, and more.
"I've Seen Santa" is also about bears. Little Bear doesn't want to go to sleep, but tries to stay up to see Santa arrive on Christmas Eve. He discovers Big Bear, his father, eating Santa's blueberry pie. Little Bear is tucked back into bed, snuggling up to Big Bear, only to hear noises downstairs. The pair find Mommy Bear messing with the stockings hung from the mantle, and they all decide to sleep downstairs to see Santa. The book is written by David Bedrod, illustrated by Tim Warnes, and published by Little Tiger Press...and there's another animal for you!
"Snuggle Up, Little One--A Treasury of Bedtime Stories," features mice, lions, tigers, chickens, cows, rabbits, a bush baby--and of course--bears. This version is a padded hardcover, 171 pages, with 6 different bedtime stories. Its navy blue cover is softened by a beautiful illustration of a tan mother bear carrying her baby bear-child, snuggled in a red blanket. They walk in a darkened forest in the background, and human-like expressions of love between parent and child indicate the tenderness that the stories inside are sure to portray. The book retails for $29.99, but the book fair price is $12.99.
If these titles intrigue you, click on the link to Books Are Fun on the right-hand side of this page and shop online. You too may find an animal book that is just your style!
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Random Thoughts For Fall
In the world of blogs, does silence in the form of not posting get noticed? It's been one month since I've taken time to put my thoughts on paper (computer?) here. For those who view this site, my apologies. For those who are first-time readers, welcome!
Someone flipped a switch here in my part of Colorado, and we went from temperatures in the 80s and 90s down to the 60s. Overnight, the thermometer measures 40 degrees, and with an open window next to the bed, sleeping is fabulous. I grew up in Chicago in Midwest humidity -- where I can recall it being so muggy in the summer that even a light sheet on top of me while sleeping seemed too hot. The cool Colorado nights eliminate the need for air conditioning. It's great!
Fall can arrive so fast. It's as if when the yellow school buses hit the roads, to temper the shock of children having to leave their summers behind, the crisp air outdoors makes them want to be in the warmth of a classroom. OK, I may be stretching it!
My "theme" table at the book fairs this past month turned from that of gardening to back-to-school. Dictionaries, aprons for teachers, packages of colored marker pens, scrapbooks for school and various memorabilia now catch the attention of parents and grandparents.
Popular new books include a "Pirates of the Caribbean" book complete with telescope and small, round disks with scenes from the summer release movie. It reminds me of the old "viewfinder" toys I played with as a child. Johnny Depp's photo on the cover is the striking draw when the product is positioned on the corner of a display table. I chided an elderly male customer yesterday when he purchased the item, teasing him with my comment of, "Now there's a real pirate!" To which he replied, "There's a pirate in every boy!" -- meaning himself. (I thought so.)
Christmas products will soon be released for sale, and my schedule gets hectic. In November and December, I am double-booked with fairs...phew! That means two events at the same time, in different locations. Yes, I'll be adding staff. Finding the right person(s) is always the challenge.
Tonight we meet the new love of a close friend. He met her on "e-harmony.com" -- you've probably seen the distinguished TV commercials about Dr. Neal Clark Warren's matching service, as well as the cute spoofs about e-harmony on Saturday Night Live. Hey, I'm all for it! In this day and age of computers and the Internet, Dr. Warren's service has got to be safer than finding strangers in a chat room. I look forward to seeing who this woman is. Perhaps I'll post about her in a few days. Maybe there's a book in their story!
Someone flipped a switch here in my part of Colorado, and we went from temperatures in the 80s and 90s down to the 60s. Overnight, the thermometer measures 40 degrees, and with an open window next to the bed, sleeping is fabulous. I grew up in Chicago in Midwest humidity -- where I can recall it being so muggy in the summer that even a light sheet on top of me while sleeping seemed too hot. The cool Colorado nights eliminate the need for air conditioning. It's great!
Fall can arrive so fast. It's as if when the yellow school buses hit the roads, to temper the shock of children having to leave their summers behind, the crisp air outdoors makes them want to be in the warmth of a classroom. OK, I may be stretching it!
My "theme" table at the book fairs this past month turned from that of gardening to back-to-school. Dictionaries, aprons for teachers, packages of colored marker pens, scrapbooks for school and various memorabilia now catch the attention of parents and grandparents.
Popular new books include a "Pirates of the Caribbean" book complete with telescope and small, round disks with scenes from the summer release movie. It reminds me of the old "viewfinder" toys I played with as a child. Johnny Depp's photo on the cover is the striking draw when the product is positioned on the corner of a display table. I chided an elderly male customer yesterday when he purchased the item, teasing him with my comment of, "Now there's a real pirate!" To which he replied, "There's a pirate in every boy!" -- meaning himself. (I thought so.)
Christmas products will soon be released for sale, and my schedule gets hectic. In November and December, I am double-booked with fairs...phew! That means two events at the same time, in different locations. Yes, I'll be adding staff. Finding the right person(s) is always the challenge.
Tonight we meet the new love of a close friend. He met her on "e-harmony.com" -- you've probably seen the distinguished TV commercials about Dr. Neal Clark Warren's matching service, as well as the cute spoofs about e-harmony on Saturday Night Live. Hey, I'm all for it! In this day and age of computers and the Internet, Dr. Warren's service has got to be safer than finding strangers in a chat room. I look forward to seeing who this woman is. Perhaps I'll post about her in a few days. Maybe there's a book in their story!
Friday, August 11, 2006
Stealing a Line from Forrest Gump
Okay, I know it's been said by many others. With honors to Forrest Gump, my life lately has been like a box of chocolates, not knowing what I'm going to get.
Vacation was great. Restful, relaxing. Coming home meant facing a full schedule: the start of the fall season book fairs began. Then three out-of-state relatives here visiting at the same time for nine days. A husband's birthday. A child's birthday. And in the middle, a death in the family. Yesterday, it all ended, and I could barely move off the couch, exhausted from the emotional and physical bombardment.
Today was better. I had a busy, fun book fair day that continues tomorrow, to end the week in a productive mode. Yet my thoughts were of family.
The death was expected and yet, not. The person was important and meaningful in my life -- he was the father of my three children, a former husband -- and a loss that is a first for me.
Funerals and weddings were always the gathering place in my family when I was growing up. My four siblings and I didn't mind the funerals very much, because it gave us a chance to see our jillion cousins (...I came from a large family...), play in the basement of the funeral home, and eat lots of good food at one of our many aunts' homes after the service.
This week was not hard, but not easy. My children have lost their father. I had to close the door on a part of my life. In the process, I reconnected with many friends from long ago. Some I hadn't seen in 20 years. A few pounds heavier, dozens of hair shafts barer, with wrinkled faces, they smiled when they saw me. It felt great, despite everyone's grief.
Suffice it to say, death comes to us all. Some times are better than others. Selling books and staging book fairs had to wait. Life was more important this past week.
I'm back on track, a day at a time.
Vacation was great. Restful, relaxing. Coming home meant facing a full schedule: the start of the fall season book fairs began. Then three out-of-state relatives here visiting at the same time for nine days. A husband's birthday. A child's birthday. And in the middle, a death in the family. Yesterday, it all ended, and I could barely move off the couch, exhausted from the emotional and physical bombardment.
Today was better. I had a busy, fun book fair day that continues tomorrow, to end the week in a productive mode. Yet my thoughts were of family.
The death was expected and yet, not. The person was important and meaningful in my life -- he was the father of my three children, a former husband -- and a loss that is a first for me.
Funerals and weddings were always the gathering place in my family when I was growing up. My four siblings and I didn't mind the funerals very much, because it gave us a chance to see our jillion cousins (...I came from a large family...), play in the basement of the funeral home, and eat lots of good food at one of our many aunts' homes after the service.
This week was not hard, but not easy. My children have lost their father. I had to close the door on a part of my life. In the process, I reconnected with many friends from long ago. Some I hadn't seen in 20 years. A few pounds heavier, dozens of hair shafts barer, with wrinkled faces, they smiled when they saw me. It felt great, despite everyone's grief.
Suffice it to say, death comes to us all. Some times are better than others. Selling books and staging book fairs had to wait. Life was more important this past week.
I'm back on track, a day at a time.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
A Summer Recipe: Add Ocean to Warm Air--Mix with Good Books
The Mexico vacation is over and I have spent two days slowly getting back to the reality of home, laundry, and gearing up for book fairs that begin next week. The white sand beach was all I expected and more. The Caribbean breeze from the east made the humid temperatures a soothing balm to the body each day. We started our days in swim suits, and ended nights in a Jacuzzi tub outdoors on our room’s balcony. The sound of the ocean surf lapping on the shore was all I needed to lull me to a restful sleep. It was the kind of vacation we hoped for—a get-away to lie around, enjoy siestas under a grassy palapa, and read books (see below) in between swimming in the ocean or the pool. A one-day bus tour inland to visit the Mayan Ruins at Chichén Itzá was fascinating and worth the time. The number of roadside vendors at the site were plentiful, but that didn't spoil the day. Kayaking and paddle boating were refreshing diversions when we wanted activity. I was fearless, as long as I had my life vest on!
The flow of daily conversations on the beach was relaxed, as we heard Spanish, French, and other dialects from various parts of the world. It was a comfort to hear human noise as people near us talked, yet not intruding because we couldn’t understand what they were saying. We were alone among many--a nice thing, being in our own private world, while sharing it with others.
Our first night there, we ate at the resort’s Japanese restaurant (one of five types at the hotel). We shared the hibachi-side table with a family from Barcelona, Spain. Only the husband could speak a bit of English, though the two sons were learning, he explained. A beautiful family—father Francesco, mother Angela, sons Pol, Nil, and young daughter, Maria—popped up at meals in the same places where my husband and I were eating, almost every day. Our communication was smiles, gestures, and a few words to each of them translated by the dad. The boys followed and loved American NBA basketball, and we recognized the athletes’ names as they excitedly told us who their favorite players were. We were surprised to learn that these young residents of Spain were avid enthusiasts, at ages 15 and 11. Eight-year-old Maria turned her nose up at the subject, her interests falling to dance and tennis. They all had lively brown eyes and wavy, dark hair, enhanced by deep tans.
I read three books during the eight-day vacation, something I’d not done, consecutively, in a long time. With my full in-season book fair schedule and all the administrative work involved after "store" hours (sales reports, unpacking of boxes, pricing inventory, and more), spare time to read has been sparse of late.
Three books I recommend:
I read Toni Morrison’s Jazz, the story of a middle-aged door-to-door salesman who shoots his teenage lover to death after she ends their affair. His wife, Violet, attacks the girl’s corpse in the casket with a knife at the funeral, thus earning her the nickname “Violent” amongst her neighbors. The story is set in the winter of 1926, and artfully portrays the times and culture of black urban New York with a feeling of authenticity. Morrison, winner of the Nobel Prize, writes in a lyrical style, expressing the character’s deep feelings in a calm pace that is opposite to what the story line is wont to convey. Jazz is not a story so much about the murder, but about the reasons why the lovers meet and connect as they did, and how the wife, with no children of her own, becomes obsessed with knowing who this young girl was, and thereby grieves her death in her own way.
Next, I read This Heavy Silence by Nicole Mazzarella. It is a debut novel for this creative writing teacher from Wheaton College in Illinois. The book was earlier this month selected to receive the prestigious "First Novel" Christy Award at the annual International Christian Retailers Show (formerly known as the Christian Booksellers Association convention) held in Denver. I had purchased the book online from the publisher, Paraclete Press, before the award had been given. So I was pleased to hear that my selection was indeed recognized, and therefore an excellent choice to read on my trip.
This Heavy Silence is the story of an independent woman, never married, whose passion and life’s breath is the toil and soil of her family’s three-hundred-acre farm land, which has been in the family for three generations. When she is named legal guardian to the young daughter of a close friend, killed in a house fire, her life is changed beyond expectation. Set in the rural Midwest, it is a story about choices, vows, broken promises, and the disappointments and pleasures of life. Mazzarella writes with an easy-to-read style that flows smoothly, properly punctuated by colorful descriptive passages that are “ah-hah” sighs tucked within the paragraphs. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and suffered with the heroine in her emotional struggles of a middle-aged life that had to look back in order to move forward.
The third book I chose to read is a true story, The Boy Who Fell Out of the Sky, written by Ken Dornstein, about his brother, David, who was one of the 259 passengers killed on December 21, 1988, when Pan Am flight 103 exploded in the skies over Locherbie, Scotland. The book is not so much about David Dornstein as it is Ken’s quest to learn who his older brother really was, through passionate and painful research about his brother’s life. It is Ken’s journey through grief, growth, and gut-wrenching analysis of his brother’s diverse and odd scribblings in dozens of notebooks written almost daily in teen and young adult years. David was 25 years old, had earned a creative writing degree from Brown University, and was in search of his future as a writer at the time of the plane’s explosion.
It is the connecting with David’s friends, including two of his brother’s former girlfriends (one who later becomes and remains Ken’s wife) that adds dimension to the myriad of David’s words on lined pages that takes Ken to Israel and back again, searching to understand the mind and life of David before his death. The book conveys angst through the disturbing world David writes about, and in parallel, paints a portrait of who Ken was growing up, hidden in the shadow of his older brother in life, and for a time, afterwards, in his death. Ken triumphs through this life study, and does an excellent job of bringing his brother to life for the reader. Oddly, I completed reading this book on the plane flight back to the United States, soaring at 30,000 feet in the air. In Dornstein’s book, he is for a time obsessed with imagining what book his brother might have been reading on the airplane at the time it exploded. I thought it was fitting that, if our plane exploded on the way home from Mexico, I would be reading a book such as this. (Was I trying to tempt fate?)
I’m happy to say, we made it home safely. Buenos noches. Hasta mañana.
The flow of daily conversations on the beach was relaxed, as we heard Spanish, French, and other dialects from various parts of the world. It was a comfort to hear human noise as people near us talked, yet not intruding because we couldn’t understand what they were saying. We were alone among many--a nice thing, being in our own private world, while sharing it with others.
Our first night there, we ate at the resort’s Japanese restaurant (one of five types at the hotel). We shared the hibachi-side table with a family from Barcelona, Spain. Only the husband could speak a bit of English, though the two sons were learning, he explained. A beautiful family—father Francesco, mother Angela, sons Pol, Nil, and young daughter, Maria—popped up at meals in the same places where my husband and I were eating, almost every day. Our communication was smiles, gestures, and a few words to each of them translated by the dad. The boys followed and loved American NBA basketball, and we recognized the athletes’ names as they excitedly told us who their favorite players were. We were surprised to learn that these young residents of Spain were avid enthusiasts, at ages 15 and 11. Eight-year-old Maria turned her nose up at the subject, her interests falling to dance and tennis. They all had lively brown eyes and wavy, dark hair, enhanced by deep tans.
I read three books during the eight-day vacation, something I’d not done, consecutively, in a long time. With my full in-season book fair schedule and all the administrative work involved after "store" hours (sales reports, unpacking of boxes, pricing inventory, and more), spare time to read has been sparse of late.
Three books I recommend:
I read Toni Morrison’s Jazz, the story of a middle-aged door-to-door salesman who shoots his teenage lover to death after she ends their affair. His wife, Violet, attacks the girl’s corpse in the casket with a knife at the funeral, thus earning her the nickname “Violent” amongst her neighbors. The story is set in the winter of 1926, and artfully portrays the times and culture of black urban New York with a feeling of authenticity. Morrison, winner of the Nobel Prize, writes in a lyrical style, expressing the character’s deep feelings in a calm pace that is opposite to what the story line is wont to convey. Jazz is not a story so much about the murder, but about the reasons why the lovers meet and connect as they did, and how the wife, with no children of her own, becomes obsessed with knowing who this young girl was, and thereby grieves her death in her own way.
Next, I read This Heavy Silence by Nicole Mazzarella. It is a debut novel for this creative writing teacher from Wheaton College in Illinois. The book was earlier this month selected to receive the prestigious "First Novel" Christy Award at the annual International Christian Retailers Show (formerly known as the Christian Booksellers Association convention) held in Denver. I had purchased the book online from the publisher, Paraclete Press, before the award had been given. So I was pleased to hear that my selection was indeed recognized, and therefore an excellent choice to read on my trip.
This Heavy Silence is the story of an independent woman, never married, whose passion and life’s breath is the toil and soil of her family’s three-hundred-acre farm land, which has been in the family for three generations. When she is named legal guardian to the young daughter of a close friend, killed in a house fire, her life is changed beyond expectation. Set in the rural Midwest, it is a story about choices, vows, broken promises, and the disappointments and pleasures of life. Mazzarella writes with an easy-to-read style that flows smoothly, properly punctuated by colorful descriptive passages that are “ah-hah” sighs tucked within the paragraphs. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and suffered with the heroine in her emotional struggles of a middle-aged life that had to look back in order to move forward.
The third book I chose to read is a true story, The Boy Who Fell Out of the Sky, written by Ken Dornstein, about his brother, David, who was one of the 259 passengers killed on December 21, 1988, when Pan Am flight 103 exploded in the skies over Locherbie, Scotland. The book is not so much about David Dornstein as it is Ken’s quest to learn who his older brother really was, through passionate and painful research about his brother’s life. It is Ken’s journey through grief, growth, and gut-wrenching analysis of his brother’s diverse and odd scribblings in dozens of notebooks written almost daily in teen and young adult years. David was 25 years old, had earned a creative writing degree from Brown University, and was in search of his future as a writer at the time of the plane’s explosion.
It is the connecting with David’s friends, including two of his brother’s former girlfriends (one who later becomes and remains Ken’s wife) that adds dimension to the myriad of David’s words on lined pages that takes Ken to Israel and back again, searching to understand the mind and life of David before his death. The book conveys angst through the disturbing world David writes about, and in parallel, paints a portrait of who Ken was growing up, hidden in the shadow of his older brother in life, and for a time, afterwards, in his death. Ken triumphs through this life study, and does an excellent job of bringing his brother to life for the reader. Oddly, I completed reading this book on the plane flight back to the United States, soaring at 30,000 feet in the air. In Dornstein’s book, he is for a time obsessed with imagining what book his brother might have been reading on the airplane at the time it exploded. I thought it was fitting that, if our plane exploded on the way home from Mexico, I would be reading a book such as this. (Was I trying to tempt fate?)
I’m happy to say, we made it home safely. Buenos noches. Hasta mañana.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Vacation Time
This blog has been silent because I'm swamped with end-of-the season book fairs! We survived inventory count--now it's off to our regional book conference before heading to Mexico for a week! In between, I turn another year older, so that's a reason to take a vacation too. The sand and ocean water beckon. My staff and I have done five different book fairs in the past seven days (some of them 2-day events) and it's time to relax.
My Fabio life-size cardboard cutout turned heads yesterday. For the first time, he stood behind our cash register--an employee and I dressed him in our work apron and stuck a name tag on him. One customer (who wasn't paying close attention) thought he was a person standing there--as she wrote out her check, she struck up a conversation with "him" -- and laughed in amused embarrassment when she looked up and saw what and "who" it was! Much fun!
This week I set up a "Christmas in July" table and was pleasantly surprised to see many customers were ready to buy snowman ornaments, wrapping paper, and other themed items. I've never been one to focus on Christmas in the summer, but I saw this week that many people do. Once August arrives, I'm afraid it won't be long before we think "snow." In this part of the country, it can happen in September. For now, I'm thinking "beach."
Some of the best selling items recently have been:
1) Rachael Ray's "30 Minute Meals," No. 1 & 2
2) Chronicles of Narnia, 19-CD collection
3) Book Tote Bags
4) Handmade greeting card sets
5) Leather portfolio
6) "Amazing Grace" book with CD
7) "Baby's First Bible" with white plush stuffed lamb
8) Betty Crocker's "Bridal Edition" cookbook
9) "Through Indian Eyes"
10) "New Complete Guide to Landscaping"
The list tells me that my buyers want a bit of everything. They have business needs, personal wants, a need for gift items, and they like to work in the garden and cook. That covers just about most of us, I'd say.
This blog will take a short break, unless I can find a computer to connect with while I'm laying under a cabana in the Mexican sun. On second thought, maybe I'll just catch up on some reading and some sleep.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Hollywood -- Colorado Style
Selling books also means counting books. Yes, it’s mid-year inventory time. Because I carry more than 550 titles, it’s quite the project to stack, mark each with a SKU tag and count the items. Phew. Okay, my inventory is not as large as the chain stores, I know, but counting it is still a daunting task. Never mind that I only got three hours of sleep last night, finishing the details before the “official” counters arrived this morning. Why? Because I had opted to attend the annual church choir banquet last night, held at New Life Church in Colorado Springs, my home church. This, instead of working in the warehouse—whereby I shorted myself on sleep time in the process. Starting next week, the fall season begins in a rush right after Independence Day, and we start a deliberate slide into the Christmas season. I know, I know—it’s too early to talk about Christmas shopping! Yet here we are, halfway through 2006 as July 1st lands this weekend.
Speaking of my church choir, last night’s event mimicked the Academy Awards in Hollywood—it was the “red carpet,” Colorado style. Each year, a chosen committee selects a banquet theme. Last year, we had a Fifties Party. The year before, a Western Hoedown. At the other end of the scale was last night’s formal, sit-down dinner affair, complete with the little gold statuettes. We gave awards that Hollywood can’t compete with, except for choosing the Song of the Year. Choir members cast votes two weeks ago in anticipation of this week’s award ceremony, complete with the theme music from the annual televised show.
The “Paul A. Awards” (named after a beloved staff member, who is a dynamite clarinet and saxophone player) recognized those in our nearly 200-member choir for outstanding achievement for being the:
Loudest Alto, Tenor and Bass singers
Person Most Likely to Forget His/Her Vocal Part
Person Most Likely to Ad-Lib the Words
Funniest Choir Member
Person Who Smiles the Most
Most Demonstrative Worship Singer
Most Talkative Choir Member
Person Who Disrupts the Choir the Most
Best Hairstyle
Best-Dressed
These were designed to make light of the idiosyncrasies all singers have, striving for attention in ways that only persons on stage can. However, I’ll mention that we in the worship choir know our focus is to be on God, and not on ourselves. We also selected three members (one from each section) whom we admire as each being the Most Inspirational Singer—an honor for each of them to receive.
Chosen as the Song of the Year was “Your Name,” a song co-written by Dove-award winning Christian singer, Paul Baloche, and our very own guitarist and member of New Life Church’s worship band, Glenn Packiam. Of the five nominated songs, this dynamic composition combines harmonious chords and expressive lyrics that recognize the “strong and mighty power” that is the “shelter” of our God. Packiam is also a member of the Desperation Band, a group that releases CDs through Integrity Music. Its latest release is "Who You Are" and is available online.
Speaking of my church choir, last night’s event mimicked the Academy Awards in Hollywood—it was the “red carpet,” Colorado style. Each year, a chosen committee selects a banquet theme. Last year, we had a Fifties Party. The year before, a Western Hoedown. At the other end of the scale was last night’s formal, sit-down dinner affair, complete with the little gold statuettes. We gave awards that Hollywood can’t compete with, except for choosing the Song of the Year. Choir members cast votes two weeks ago in anticipation of this week’s award ceremony, complete with the theme music from the annual televised show.
The “Paul A. Awards” (named after a beloved staff member, who is a dynamite clarinet and saxophone player) recognized those in our nearly 200-member choir for outstanding achievement for being the:
Loudest Alto, Tenor and Bass singers
Person Most Likely to Forget His/Her Vocal Part
Person Most Likely to Ad-Lib the Words
Funniest Choir Member
Person Who Smiles the Most
Most Demonstrative Worship Singer
Most Talkative Choir Member
Person Who Disrupts the Choir the Most
Best Hairstyle
Best-Dressed
These were designed to make light of the idiosyncrasies all singers have, striving for attention in ways that only persons on stage can. However, I’ll mention that we in the worship choir know our focus is to be on God, and not on ourselves. We also selected three members (one from each section) whom we admire as each being the Most Inspirational Singer—an honor for each of them to receive.
Chosen as the Song of the Year was “Your Name,” a song co-written by Dove-award winning Christian singer, Paul Baloche, and our very own guitarist and member of New Life Church’s worship band, Glenn Packiam. Of the five nominated songs, this dynamic composition combines harmonious chords and expressive lyrics that recognize the “strong and mighty power” that is the “shelter” of our God. Packiam is also a member of the Desperation Band, a group that releases CDs through Integrity Music. Its latest release is "Who You Are" and is available online.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Black Hawks, Mary Kay, and Elvis
On the final day of last week’s book fair at a local US Army hospital, I met and talked with a Black Hawk helicopter technician. The soldier had been working on the legendary transport aircraft for 19 years. Equipped with two machine guns and weighing more than 20,000 pounds, the agile helicopter didn’t intimidate this soldier, according to the story she told me about her career with the Army. She said she really enjoyed her work.
Read that again—I said “she.” Yes, the soldier who knew the ins-and-outs of this versatile flying machine was a woman. “Jenna” was youthful and energetic, auburn hair pulled up into a neat bun on top her head—not looking like the kind of woman one would expect maintains the magnificent Black Hawk. How could I not be interested in learning more about her, surely unique among women her age? I’d guessed her to be in her 30s, but she said she’d reached the 40-mark a couple of years before. (Jenna attributed her youthful look to Mary Kay cosmetics…the softer side of a helicopter mechanic in view!)
She is a single mom to two daughters who have traveled with her when Jenna’s assignments allowed it. They each see their father regularly and have benefited from living in other parts of the world, Jenna explained. After 19 years, she remains dedicated in her service to our country, and never thought of doing anything else. She’s served her time in Iraq.
Nineteen years is long enough to do any one job, though, and Jenna is in active pursuit to switch to another role in her Army career, that of scheduling movement of troops. The job change should take place in the near future. In the meantime, she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty, even when desert temperatures on a flight line reach into the hundreds. After all, Mary Kay sells great hand care products, too!
________________________________________________________
Another Elvis sighting: My Elvis Presley celebrity life-size cut-out elicited a story from an elderly man who sauntered through the book fair at the end of the fourth and final day. I was packing up the assorted CDs from the nearby “impulse” table, tired but pleased with the week’s sales. Elvis stood nearby, as if to oversee my taking proper care of the music—frozen handsome and smiling in his gold lamé suit.
I glanced at the aged man as he approached, then focused on his deeply wrinkled face when he stopped directly in front of me. He pointed a cigarette-stained finger at the cardboard man and said, “I was his platoon sergeant in Germany.”
“Who? Elvis?” I thought perhaps he was making this up.
“I sure was. He was my scout squad leader. He could read a map like a son-of-a-gun. He was mean…” The odor of cigarette breath was strong, and I wanted to back away, but the story I was about to hear intrigued me too much to pass up. I inhaled carefully and listened to the man.
“Elvis and I were in a bar, and there were two soldiers there with their uniform sleeves rolled up,” he explained. “That was against the rules. I pointed it out to Elvis – ‘See those guys?’ I said. Elvis went over to ‘em, told ‘em to roll down their sleeves. They did. But as soon as he turned around, they rolled ‘em back up. He took those two guys and throwed ‘em down the stairs, out the door! Yeh—Elvis. He was a real nice fella…” The man smiled as he shuffled away, recalling the memory.
Did I believe him? I had no reason not to. It was a nice surprise ending to my busy day.
Read that again—I said “she.” Yes, the soldier who knew the ins-and-outs of this versatile flying machine was a woman. “Jenna” was youthful and energetic, auburn hair pulled up into a neat bun on top her head—not looking like the kind of woman one would expect maintains the magnificent Black Hawk. How could I not be interested in learning more about her, surely unique among women her age? I’d guessed her to be in her 30s, but she said she’d reached the 40-mark a couple of years before. (Jenna attributed her youthful look to Mary Kay cosmetics…the softer side of a helicopter mechanic in view!)
She is a single mom to two daughters who have traveled with her when Jenna’s assignments allowed it. They each see their father regularly and have benefited from living in other parts of the world, Jenna explained. After 19 years, she remains dedicated in her service to our country, and never thought of doing anything else. She’s served her time in Iraq.
Nineteen years is long enough to do any one job, though, and Jenna is in active pursuit to switch to another role in her Army career, that of scheduling movement of troops. The job change should take place in the near future. In the meantime, she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty, even when desert temperatures on a flight line reach into the hundreds. After all, Mary Kay sells great hand care products, too!
________________________________________________________
Another Elvis sighting: My Elvis Presley celebrity life-size cut-out elicited a story from an elderly man who sauntered through the book fair at the end of the fourth and final day. I was packing up the assorted CDs from the nearby “impulse” table, tired but pleased with the week’s sales. Elvis stood nearby, as if to oversee my taking proper care of the music—frozen handsome and smiling in his gold lamé suit.
I glanced at the aged man as he approached, then focused on his deeply wrinkled face when he stopped directly in front of me. He pointed a cigarette-stained finger at the cardboard man and said, “I was his platoon sergeant in Germany.”
“Who? Elvis?” I thought perhaps he was making this up.
“I sure was. He was my scout squad leader. He could read a map like a son-of-a-gun. He was mean…” The odor of cigarette breath was strong, and I wanted to back away, but the story I was about to hear intrigued me too much to pass up. I inhaled carefully and listened to the man.
“Elvis and I were in a bar, and there were two soldiers there with their uniform sleeves rolled up,” he explained. “That was against the rules. I pointed it out to Elvis – ‘See those guys?’ I said. Elvis went over to ‘em, told ‘em to roll down their sleeves. They did. But as soon as he turned around, they rolled ‘em back up. He took those two guys and throwed ‘em down the stairs, out the door! Yeh—Elvis. He was a real nice fella…” The man smiled as he shuffled away, recalling the memory.
Did I believe him? I had no reason not to. It was a nice surprise ending to my busy day.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
To VietNam and Back Again
It has been a number of years since I’ve talked with a VietNam War veteran. Today I had a rare opportunity to do so. I noticed the man because his suspenders were bedecked with nearly two dozen pins of various types, some indicating his volunteer service to the Army hospital where this week’s book fair is staged. He was relaxed and smiled as he stepped up to the cash register, two books in his hands. I asked him if he’d ever been in military service, indicating his array of pins. Judging by his thinning hair and slight paunch, I understood it would have been a few years ago, if he had.
“I was in VietNam for 18 months—the first time. I enjoyed it,” he said.
Enjoyed it? How was that possible? I probed for more information. I had been part of that generation—the ‘60s, the anti-war protest years, hippy “flower” children. I remembered how many young men and women had died in a country far away in a war many did not support. How could this grandfatherly-looking man tell me he enjoyed VietNam?
“I’d been assigned duty as a guard in Germany, and I wanted out of that,” he explained. “So after pestering my commanding officer, it took just 10 days, and I was out of there, and on my way to the war. It wasn’t so bad. I worked with supplies, but when I got shot right here in the stomach (he touched his right side to show me where he’d been hit), they sent me home. I asked to go back, even though I was suffering from PTSD (note: post-traumatic stress syndrome). I was put on 100% disability, but I wanted to go back. I served a second tour of duty for six months before coming home.”
At that point, it didn’t matter to me what he had enjoyed about VietNam. I could do nothing but thank him more than once for his service, hearing he had voluntarily returned to fight that unpopular war. Today he stood before me an aged, but proud, man. He bore no anger and hatred against those who jeered and cursed him and other soldiers upon their return—he just said, “It wasn’t so bad. I was okay.”
I was face-to-face with a real-life hero. I thanked him again for what he had done almost four decades ago, grateful for people like him who gave years of their lives for our country at a time when it seemed the “wrong” thing to do. He turned and walked away with dignity—and with peace.
__________________________________________________
Book Fair Notes: With Father’s Day this Sunday, many shoppers are looking for the perfect gift to buy dad. Sports books are selling well, as are CDs and DVDs from “Motorcity” (a 4-CD set of original Motown tunes), Celtic music sets, to the History Channel’s “American Revolution.” Other items selling are binoculars, “Country Wisdom: Everything You Need to Know to Live Off the Land,” gardening books, and the latest “Road Atlas.” Many shoppers are going out of town to visit their dads, and a few of them have their fathers flying here to spend time together as a family.
Consider a book as you shop for YOUR dad! Visit http://www.booksarefun.com/ via the link on this page on the right-hand side, using the discount customer code of COSEP2 for low prices.
“I was in VietNam for 18 months—the first time. I enjoyed it,” he said.
Enjoyed it? How was that possible? I probed for more information. I had been part of that generation—the ‘60s, the anti-war protest years, hippy “flower” children. I remembered how many young men and women had died in a country far away in a war many did not support. How could this grandfatherly-looking man tell me he enjoyed VietNam?
“I’d been assigned duty as a guard in Germany, and I wanted out of that,” he explained. “So after pestering my commanding officer, it took just 10 days, and I was out of there, and on my way to the war. It wasn’t so bad. I worked with supplies, but when I got shot right here in the stomach (he touched his right side to show me where he’d been hit), they sent me home. I asked to go back, even though I was suffering from PTSD (note: post-traumatic stress syndrome). I was put on 100% disability, but I wanted to go back. I served a second tour of duty for six months before coming home.”
At that point, it didn’t matter to me what he had enjoyed about VietNam. I could do nothing but thank him more than once for his service, hearing he had voluntarily returned to fight that unpopular war. Today he stood before me an aged, but proud, man. He bore no anger and hatred against those who jeered and cursed him and other soldiers upon their return—he just said, “It wasn’t so bad. I was okay.”
I was face-to-face with a real-life hero. I thanked him again for what he had done almost four decades ago, grateful for people like him who gave years of their lives for our country at a time when it seemed the “wrong” thing to do. He turned and walked away with dignity—and with peace.
__________________________________________________
Book Fair Notes: With Father’s Day this Sunday, many shoppers are looking for the perfect gift to buy dad. Sports books are selling well, as are CDs and DVDs from “Motorcity” (a 4-CD set of original Motown tunes), Celtic music sets, to the History Channel’s “American Revolution.” Other items selling are binoculars, “Country Wisdom: Everything You Need to Know to Live Off the Land,” gardening books, and the latest “Road Atlas.” Many shoppers are going out of town to visit their dads, and a few of them have their fathers flying here to spend time together as a family.
Consider a book as you shop for YOUR dad! Visit http://www.booksarefun.com/ via the link on this page on the right-hand side, using the discount customer code of COSEP2 for low prices.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
A Chaplain For Nearly a Half-Century
The chaplain was quite cheery for 6:30 in the morning. Though I rose at four a.m. to begin my day, I was not yet in time with his joyous mood, two-plus hours later. I went about my task of setting up the first day of this week’s book fair scheduled at the Army hospital. The gray-haired man tagged along and chatted. He looked more like a physician than a man of the cloth, dressed in his white smock, his I.D. tag hanging from around his neck. I politely listened and nodded as I unfolded and positioned tablecloths, then moved display racks into place. At first annoyed by his banter, something told me to “stop and listen” to him. “The tasks can wait a few minutes,” I thought, then gave this man my full attention.
“I’ve been in the service for more than half a century,” he beamed. “And I’ve been in the chaplaincy almost half a century too!” That WAS impressive. I noticed the pride in his eyes, not dimmed by the thickness of his wire-rimmed glasses. I stood silent and with respect as he continued his tale.
“I was a chaplain in World War II, and my dad fought in World War I.” Now I knew I was in the presence of someone who deserved honor. “I wanted to go into the Navy when I was young,” he explained. “My dad was in the Army, and he would have none of that.” I pictured this aging man in his youth, standing up to his father, at odds in their opinions.
He described the scene at the recruitment office. “There were two lines formed—one was for Army, and the other for Navy. They’d shout out to all of us there, ‘Army!’ ‘Navy!’ and we’d choose a line to stand in. Well, I had flat feet. (I started to feel a bit sorry for him, hearing this.) I’d been an athlete all through high school, but my flat feet kept me out of the Army. I was in that line for the Navy, and they stamped my hand with the letters N-A-V-Y – and it didn’t matter if I had flat feet. I was glad.”
I thought his story was finished, was poised to thank him and turn away—when he grinned, eyes twinkling, “With my flat feet, I figured if the ship ever sank, I just might be able to walk on water!”
We both laughed out loud, me the more surprised of the two. He’d just jump-started my morning, and my smile didn’t fade for the next half-an-hour. He knew exactly what he was doing when he’d started the conversation. Unsuspecting, I was taken in, and given a gift to start my day.
“I’ve been in the service for more than half a century,” he beamed. “And I’ve been in the chaplaincy almost half a century too!” That WAS impressive. I noticed the pride in his eyes, not dimmed by the thickness of his wire-rimmed glasses. I stood silent and with respect as he continued his tale.
“I was a chaplain in World War II, and my dad fought in World War I.” Now I knew I was in the presence of someone who deserved honor. “I wanted to go into the Navy when I was young,” he explained. “My dad was in the Army, and he would have none of that.” I pictured this aging man in his youth, standing up to his father, at odds in their opinions.
He described the scene at the recruitment office. “There were two lines formed—one was for Army, and the other for Navy. They’d shout out to all of us there, ‘Army!’ ‘Navy!’ and we’d choose a line to stand in. Well, I had flat feet. (I started to feel a bit sorry for him, hearing this.) I’d been an athlete all through high school, but my flat feet kept me out of the Army. I was in that line for the Navy, and they stamped my hand with the letters N-A-V-Y – and it didn’t matter if I had flat feet. I was glad.”
I thought his story was finished, was poised to thank him and turn away—when he grinned, eyes twinkling, “With my flat feet, I figured if the ship ever sank, I just might be able to walk on water!”
We both laughed out loud, me the more surprised of the two. He’d just jump-started my morning, and my smile didn’t fade for the next half-an-hour. He knew exactly what he was doing when he’d started the conversation. Unsuspecting, I was taken in, and given a gift to start my day.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Serving Those Who Serve Our Country
Today I begin a 4-day book fair staged in a local Army hospital. It is one of the military bases from where many of our soldiers are deployed overseas to fight the war in Iraq. Many of my customers will be the staff who care for those returning with injuries, whether they be physical or emotional. Some will also be the soldiers.
Three months ago, I had been in this same facility conducting another book fair. An incident happened that clearly showed me how these soldiers continue to live in some way with the trauma of fighting a war. I had been blowing up some helium balloons to use with my display. I unintentionally overfilled a mylar balloon. To my surprise along with everyone else's present in the area, it exploded. The sound echoed loudly in the tiled atrium hallway--to my embarrassment. In an instant, I realized it sounded like gunshot, as did all the others. With a racing heart, I cried out, "It's only a balloon--it's not a gun!" I could tell by the wide-eyed expressions on many faces, that was exactly what they were reacting to. One soldier commented, "With most people here suffering from PTSD, you're lucky we didn't all hit the floor!" I put away the helium and left the display balloon-less.
This week, I am honored to serve those who are serving our country. Please return to this blog each day to read about the soldiers whom I will talk to.
Three months ago, I had been in this same facility conducting another book fair. An incident happened that clearly showed me how these soldiers continue to live in some way with the trauma of fighting a war. I had been blowing up some helium balloons to use with my display. I unintentionally overfilled a mylar balloon. To my surprise along with everyone else's present in the area, it exploded. The sound echoed loudly in the tiled atrium hallway--to my embarrassment. In an instant, I realized it sounded like gunshot, as did all the others. With a racing heart, I cried out, "It's only a balloon--it's not a gun!" I could tell by the wide-eyed expressions on many faces, that was exactly what they were reacting to. One soldier commented, "With most people here suffering from PTSD, you're lucky we didn't all hit the floor!" I put away the helium and left the display balloon-less.
This week, I am honored to serve those who are serving our country. Please return to this blog each day to read about the soldiers whom I will talk to.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
DaVinci…DaWhat?
Okay…so I’ve held off reading “The DaVinci Code” and also have not yet seen the movie. Maybe it’s just for the sake of saying, “Nope, not read it. Not seen it.” (Why, I don’t know, because eventually I’ll probably go for it.) I’m a big movie fan, so it’s hard to resist running out to the nearest theater to join the masses that had to be among the first in the seats. As a book seller, I’ll admit to carrying a few copies of the famous-and-debated work of fiction. Yes, yes. I do have to give the customers what they want—that’s simply smart business sense.
In my own way, I was playing a silent game with my customers. “The DaVinci Code” copies were carefully positioned in different places on my “bestseller” rack at different book fairs. At one event, I’d place them on the top shelves to see how fast they sold. The next time, I’d position the book toward the bottom to see just how badly people wanted it—if they had to search for it, would they still buy the book? Did that embossed, golden title jump off the dark-red cover enough to trip people as they walked by, out of immediate view? Buried between Jimmy Carter’s “Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis” and Frank Peretti’s “Monster,” I thought perhaps those titles might instead catch a shopper’s gaze, who in turn, would have a hard decision to make, choosing between the three types of ethical discussions.
What I noticed was that during the week preceding the movie debut, the DaVinci copies did not sell—and that was when the book was placed on the top shelves of the rack. I’d wondered if people had gotten bored by the voluminous clamber on the airwaves about Dan Brown’s legal predicament. Tom Hanks’s promotion of the movie was a bit overdone too (I thought), as he appeared on every television channel most nights, gushing over the merits of his new film.
However, after “The DaVinci Code” premiered in theaters, the copies of the book went quickly…sold right away. I had a single hardback remaining when a man who had seen it displayed the day before came back to buy it, but it was gone—sold to someone who had been there an hour before.
I haven’t seen a man that age pout so sadly in quite a while! Maybe he should just go see the movie…
In my own way, I was playing a silent game with my customers. “The DaVinci Code” copies were carefully positioned in different places on my “bestseller” rack at different book fairs. At one event, I’d place them on the top shelves to see how fast they sold. The next time, I’d position the book toward the bottom to see just how badly people wanted it—if they had to search for it, would they still buy the book? Did that embossed, golden title jump off the dark-red cover enough to trip people as they walked by, out of immediate view? Buried between Jimmy Carter’s “Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis” and Frank Peretti’s “Monster,” I thought perhaps those titles might instead catch a shopper’s gaze, who in turn, would have a hard decision to make, choosing between the three types of ethical discussions.
What I noticed was that during the week preceding the movie debut, the DaVinci copies did not sell—and that was when the book was placed on the top shelves of the rack. I’d wondered if people had gotten bored by the voluminous clamber on the airwaves about Dan Brown’s legal predicament. Tom Hanks’s promotion of the movie was a bit overdone too (I thought), as he appeared on every television channel most nights, gushing over the merits of his new film.
However, after “The DaVinci Code” premiered in theaters, the copies of the book went quickly…sold right away. I had a single hardback remaining when a man who had seen it displayed the day before came back to buy it, but it was gone—sold to someone who had been there an hour before.
I haven’t seen a man that age pout so sadly in quite a while! Maybe he should just go see the movie…
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
What Is a Book Fair?
There are county fairs and state fairs, but perhaps some readers wonder, “Just what is a book fair?” If you have young children, you may have been exposed to a similar event at your children’s schools. However, I stage my events in the corporate world. Human Resource departments like book fair events because they are an employee benefit that workers look forward to. It is book shopping brought to the work place. Saves gas, and helps keep employees happy.
From my perspective, the best kind of book fair is one scheduled for two, three or four days at a time. Less set-up and tear-down. Yes, the one-day-ers can be killers, but we manage! I have three part-time employees who work into the mix of those physical tasks of moving carts, setting up tables and assembling attractive displays. It can take about two hours to do a complete set-up (remember, I carry more than 500 titles!), but in the end, it’s worth the time. A full-service, attractive bookstore is right there, in a company’s cafeteria, the lobby of a major hospital, or living room of a nursing home. It’s festive, and a nice change from the daily look staff and clients grow used to.
Employees love the free drawings that are standard at the book fairs. It’s normal to hear, “Now make sure you draw my name,” or “I never win anything” – and to that person’s surprise, when his or her name is drawn, many times it is indeed the first time that person has ever won something – or so they say. Happy to know I allow the winner to choose a free book, it makes that person’s day! It’s also fun for me. Many times the winner will say they’re selecting a book for a sister, son, mother, or friend. Now that’s generosity.
Speaking of generous, one important element of my book fairs is the “rebate.” In being allowed to sell products at a business, the company earns a percentage of my sales. Always. Many times this money is contributed to a charity of the company’s choice, but the funds are also given to employee hardship funds, or will add to the money employees have to stage their yearly Christmas party. I love it because I am happy to contribute to these causes, knowing a portion of the proceeds will be used in positive ways.
All in all, book fairs bring happiness and variety into a day’s routine – and who doesn’t want that as part of a hard day’s work?
From my perspective, the best kind of book fair is one scheduled for two, three or four days at a time. Less set-up and tear-down. Yes, the one-day-ers can be killers, but we manage! I have three part-time employees who work into the mix of those physical tasks of moving carts, setting up tables and assembling attractive displays. It can take about two hours to do a complete set-up (remember, I carry more than 500 titles!), but in the end, it’s worth the time. A full-service, attractive bookstore is right there, in a company’s cafeteria, the lobby of a major hospital, or living room of a nursing home. It’s festive, and a nice change from the daily look staff and clients grow used to.
Employees love the free drawings that are standard at the book fairs. It’s normal to hear, “Now make sure you draw my name,” or “I never win anything” – and to that person’s surprise, when his or her name is drawn, many times it is indeed the first time that person has ever won something – or so they say. Happy to know I allow the winner to choose a free book, it makes that person’s day! It’s also fun for me. Many times the winner will say they’re selecting a book for a sister, son, mother, or friend. Now that’s generosity.
Speaking of generous, one important element of my book fairs is the “rebate.” In being allowed to sell products at a business, the company earns a percentage of my sales. Always. Many times this money is contributed to a charity of the company’s choice, but the funds are also given to employee hardship funds, or will add to the money employees have to stage their yearly Christmas party. I love it because I am happy to contribute to these causes, knowing a portion of the proceeds will be used in positive ways.
All in all, book fairs bring happiness and variety into a day’s routine – and who doesn’t want that as part of a hard day’s work?
Friday, June 02, 2006
Daddy's Little Girl
In the book fair business, it’s a known fact that a majority of the buyers are women. Shoppers at heart, they seem to have (or take) more time to linger over lyrical pages of prose in a novel, or push buttons on a talking book being considered for a grandchild. I love the women who turn out at my book fairs because I know it means titles will move off the shelves. It’s not the money—it’s the satisfaction in knowing I’ve made their day and hear, “This is just what I was looking for.”
That said, my heart is most touched by the young dads who buy books for their children. They are a study in opposites, when dressed in a 3-piece suit.
Mid-week I conducted a 2-day fair in the lobby of a somewhat ritzy office building downtown. As expected, shoppers filled the aisles during lunch time. The rest of the day, people scurried to and fro, briefcases in hand, off to important meetings and appointments. They’d stop but a moment at the bestseller rack or cookbook display, then back on pace toward a job task. Whenever a businessman approached the cash register, I expected he’d pay for a copy of a business book or the latest profile of an athlete who makes millions. But not always. When a smartly-dressed man places a copy of “Chicken Little” or “Pooh Stories” on the countertop, it is a treat. His soft side shows, and it’s something to see.
One of the best parts of the retail book business is talking with the customers—and overhearing conversations amongst them. Picture this: two fortyish lawyer-looking types head my way, a bit rushed, it seems. One wants to pay for his books, the other waits beside him. The buyer comments about the World War II DVD set he’s buying, his voice casual as he talks about his interest. But his demeanor switches to excitement when he points out his second choice, a book called, “Third Grade Detectives #6: The Secret of the Green Skin.” He tells his friend it’s for his daughter—“She’s in third grade and loves to read! I saw this title and knew I had to buy it for her!” His pleasure is heart-warming to me because love for his daughter is apparent in his selection, and he wasn’t afraid to share that with his gray-haired friend. In my mind, I see an enthusiastic little girl, hugging and kissing daddy who brings a new book home for her to read.
I suppose it’s why I’ve always treasured books so much. They are a means of connection and emotion between people of all ages and for all times. Dad may have a busy day at the office, but if he can spend a few dollars at a book fair, he takes home much more than white pages glued between two covers.
That said, my heart is most touched by the young dads who buy books for their children. They are a study in opposites, when dressed in a 3-piece suit.
Mid-week I conducted a 2-day fair in the lobby of a somewhat ritzy office building downtown. As expected, shoppers filled the aisles during lunch time. The rest of the day, people scurried to and fro, briefcases in hand, off to important meetings and appointments. They’d stop but a moment at the bestseller rack or cookbook display, then back on pace toward a job task. Whenever a businessman approached the cash register, I expected he’d pay for a copy of a business book or the latest profile of an athlete who makes millions. But not always. When a smartly-dressed man places a copy of “Chicken Little” or “Pooh Stories” on the countertop, it is a treat. His soft side shows, and it’s something to see.
One of the best parts of the retail book business is talking with the customers—and overhearing conversations amongst them. Picture this: two fortyish lawyer-looking types head my way, a bit rushed, it seems. One wants to pay for his books, the other waits beside him. The buyer comments about the World War II DVD set he’s buying, his voice casual as he talks about his interest. But his demeanor switches to excitement when he points out his second choice, a book called, “Third Grade Detectives #6: The Secret of the Green Skin.” He tells his friend it’s for his daughter—“She’s in third grade and loves to read! I saw this title and knew I had to buy it for her!” His pleasure is heart-warming to me because love for his daughter is apparent in his selection, and he wasn’t afraid to share that with his gray-haired friend. In my mind, I see an enthusiastic little girl, hugging and kissing daddy who brings a new book home for her to read.
I suppose it’s why I’ve always treasured books so much. They are a means of connection and emotion between people of all ages and for all times. Dad may have a busy day at the office, but if he can spend a few dollars at a book fair, he takes home much more than white pages glued between two covers.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Elvis Has Not Left the Building
For the past two days, Elvis Presley, Fabio and Marilyn Monroe were at my book fair. Derek Jeter also hung out at the men’s section. Bozo the Clown decided to stay home, as the high-class office building where the book fair was held didn’t permit clowning around. They all got a lot of attention, especially Fabio, his bare chest in broad, full view. Women asked how much it would cost them to take Fabio and Elvis home (funny…not many men were interested in Marilyn, even with the slinky red gown she wore. Many of them were lawyers in suits and ties. But get them in a pair of jeans…). When I quoted a price, none took me up on the offer. They’d frown and walk away. (“What price, fame?”)
“But wait,” you say. “Elvis and Marilyn are dead.” And you’d be right. In fact, none of these celebrities uttered a word, except for Elvis. He says a few things now and then – three phrases, to be exact. “Thanks for letting me talk to you,” “Hi, I’m Elvis Presley,” and his trademark “Thank you very much.” He’s not much on reading, though. Never spends a dime at my book fairs, despite the great selection of books that surround him. Just stands there in his gold lamé suit, grinning. He speaks when I turn him on, and quiets when I turn him off. The switch is hidden behind his left elbow. (Ever met a man you could turn on and off by a simple switch on his arm, ladies? No offense, men!)
If you haven’t guessed by now, my “celebrities” are life-size, cardboard cutouts. And they look real enough to slink up to and chat with a while. I set them up at most of the book fairs I stage for the single purpose of drawing attention. It works every time.
It amazes me how much interest these cardboard creatures draw. Immortalized and frozen in time, a simple photograph enlarged to six feet tall creates reactions that put a grin on my face whenever a book lover asks how much it would cost to take home a fold-up piece of stiff paper! Last week, female employees of an assisted living facility where I held a book fair took photos of themselves standing with Fabio. I didn’t care – they were having a blast as they admired the hunk and shopped for the products I’d brought.
My point is obvious and I’m, in my own way, taking advantage of it: people are fascinated by and interested in celebrities. They fantasize. They drool. And they stop and look at my books for sale. It’s all in the presentation.
Perhaps one day, I can arrange to have Fabio at a book fair, live and in person. But wait, first he’d have write a book. (Does he know how to read? With a mane like that, does he even have to?)
Until next time, happy reading!
“But wait,” you say. “Elvis and Marilyn are dead.” And you’d be right. In fact, none of these celebrities uttered a word, except for Elvis. He says a few things now and then – three phrases, to be exact. “Thanks for letting me talk to you,” “Hi, I’m Elvis Presley,” and his trademark “Thank you very much.” He’s not much on reading, though. Never spends a dime at my book fairs, despite the great selection of books that surround him. Just stands there in his gold lamé suit, grinning. He speaks when I turn him on, and quiets when I turn him off. The switch is hidden behind his left elbow. (Ever met a man you could turn on and off by a simple switch on his arm, ladies? No offense, men!)
If you haven’t guessed by now, my “celebrities” are life-size, cardboard cutouts. And they look real enough to slink up to and chat with a while. I set them up at most of the book fairs I stage for the single purpose of drawing attention. It works every time.
It amazes me how much interest these cardboard creatures draw. Immortalized and frozen in time, a simple photograph enlarged to six feet tall creates reactions that put a grin on my face whenever a book lover asks how much it would cost to take home a fold-up piece of stiff paper! Last week, female employees of an assisted living facility where I held a book fair took photos of themselves standing with Fabio. I didn’t care – they were having a blast as they admired the hunk and shopped for the products I’d brought.
My point is obvious and I’m, in my own way, taking advantage of it: people are fascinated by and interested in celebrities. They fantasize. They drool. And they stop and look at my books for sale. It’s all in the presentation.
Perhaps one day, I can arrange to have Fabio at a book fair, live and in person. But wait, first he’d have write a book. (Does he know how to read? With a mane like that, does he even have to?)
Until next time, happy reading!
Monday, May 29, 2006
Recognizing Memorial Day...And My Two Sons
Today I was lucky enough to connect and have lunch with my oldest son, who turns 28 tomorrow, the former "official" Memorial Day date, that being before the government moved most holidays to Mondays. He serves in the US Air Force, and has for 8 years. His younger brother is a member of the US Navy. It being Memorial Day today, I want to thank and honor those who serve our country -- my two sons included. I am proud of them and their choices to devote their lives to the freedom of our nation.
As for book talk, two of the titles I currently have available at my book fairs which recognize our servicemen and military history are these:
1) Absolute Victory--America's Greatest Generation and Their World War II Triumph. It is from the Editors of TIME, with a foreword by George H.W. Bush. The book is a 60th anniversary tribute of V-J Day, and comes with a reprinted Life magazine dated July 2, 1945. Amazingly, the cover cost of the magazine at that time was a mere 10 cents!
2) Soldiers of Freedom, by Kai Wright, is an illustrated history of African Americans in the Armed Forces. It has been a popular seller this past week at the book fairs. The book begins with the Revolutionary War, through Vietnam, the Gulf War, and the ongoing war in Afghanistan. It traces the full history of African Americans' involvement in every branch of the US armed forces.
We are lucky to live in the United States of America.
As for book talk, two of the titles I currently have available at my book fairs which recognize our servicemen and military history are these:
1) Absolute Victory--America's Greatest Generation and Their World War II Triumph. It is from the Editors of TIME, with a foreword by George H.W. Bush. The book is a 60th anniversary tribute of V-J Day, and comes with a reprinted Life magazine dated July 2, 1945. Amazingly, the cover cost of the magazine at that time was a mere 10 cents!
2) Soldiers of Freedom, by Kai Wright, is an illustrated history of African Americans in the Armed Forces. It has been a popular seller this past week at the book fairs. The book begins with the Revolutionary War, through Vietnam, the Gulf War, and the ongoing war in Afghanistan. It traces the full history of African Americans' involvement in every branch of the US armed forces.
We are lucky to live in the United States of America.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
The World of Book Selling
School's out for summer and in many families, that means regular trips to the library. It's what I did when I was young. From the time I could read, I had my nose in a book much of the time. So much so, that I remember my mother scolding me at the age of seven for reading too much, and telling me to "go outside and play." (I had been reading a book about how to tell time.) Sad at having to end my intense study, I obeyed, and silently forgave Mom for not understanding my fascination with books. Didn't she know I was happiest when reading?
Nancy Drew mysteries caught my attention early. No sooner had I finished one, and I'd hurry off to check out the next book in the series. Later, I focused on Perry Mason and Edgar Allan Poe stories. By then, in junior high school, I was buying my own books through book clubs I'd joined. With book and transistor radio in hand, I'd climb up into the ancient weeping willow tree in our back yard to hide from the world, reading away a summer day -- after chores were done, of course.
That love of the printed word has stayed with me throughout my life. Having written for newspapers, magazines, and worked in public relations and marketing (with special event coordination thrown in), I am now in the business of book selling. Not your every-day, chain-store-variety type of book sales. Not even sales on E-bay. I stage and run book fairs. I sell directly to employees and the public at places of business after setting up what amounts to a "mobile" book store, complete with shelves, tables full of products in 12 different categories, sales signs, appropriate decor, and cash register. This season, I carry more than 500 titles -- for children, men, women of all ages.
"Isn't that a lot of work?" you might ask. Well, yes it is. But it's also fun and gives me (and my employees) a lot of pleasure. After all, we're in the business of fulfilling customer needs by providing a means to explore new worlds. Isn't that what reading is all about?
And so, this blog begins. I will share stories about the people I meet. I will talk about their reading interests, and what's popular in the world of book sales (I can't keep enough Raechel Ray cookbooks in stock right now!). Because a book fair is also a "special event," now and then, a horror story of sorts will be thrown in. After all, dealing with the public can be a challenge! The customers from hell are always out there...but it's my job to smile and serve their needs, and I do.
Won't you join me and follow this blog? I promise it will be informative and entertaining. If nothing else, you might find out about a book title that piques your interest enough to go out and buy it...or check it out from your local library.
Happy reading!
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